Contagion
by IronyRocks
Summary: When Atlantis is infected with a contagion that’s quickly killing off people and threatening complete destruction, Teyla and Elizabeth are quarantined together in a small room and must deal with decisions of life and death for their people. Complete.


**Title:** Contagion  
**Author:** IronyRocks  
**Prompt:** Elizabeth/Teyla friendship, burdens of leadership.  
**Rating/Warning:** PG-13, with allusions to Character Death.  
**Category:** Teyla/Elizabeth friendship  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own Stargate: Atlantis, otherwise I'd make more screen time for the female characters.  
**Summary:** When Atlantis is infected with another contagion that's quickly killing off people and threatening the complete destruction of Atlantis, Teyla and Elizabeth are quarantined together in a small room and must deal with weighty decisions of life and death for their people.  
**Author's note:** Beta'd and much love to **fugaciouslove**! Based on an episode of "24", and inspired by the events of "Hot Zone." Spoilers up to "Critical Mass."

* * *

There are twelve dead and two more infected when Teyla finally starts to feel the pressure of the walls beginning to close in on her.

She feels the force of time diminishing with every breath taken and every word spoken, but she cannot do anything about it. The utter futility of her previous actions have somewhat tamed her eagerness to move about and attempt to execute various plans of escape, and so she sits on the floor, head resting against the cool tiles of the Atlantis walls. Elizabeth sits opposite of her, long limber legs stretched out in front, close enough to Teyla so that the thick material of the unaccommodating hazmat suit she wears often brushes against the bare regions of skin between the slits of Teyla's own skirt.

The room is oppressively small, containing a few workbenches and worthless lab equipment that take up the majority of the space. Elizabeth has already done a thorough inventory of the supplies present, and none have proven even remotely useful in their current situation.

The city-wide lockdown has stranded large crowds of people in the many of the main sectors - Command Central, the commissary, the infirmary - but interspersed throughout Atlantis, small numbers of personnel have become trapped in the superfluous parts of the City. Teyla and Elizabeth are currently occupying one of the abandoned laboratories in the west wing - a positioning that came about through a series of unfortunate events that lead to this small room playing sanctuary to the two females, while a fatal viral gas runs rampant outside.

Over twelve people have died so far, most near their vicinity, and while Teyla has not heard the screaming for some time now, she knows that more are going to suffer the same fate if the situation is not quickly handled. It is strange that the four thin walls that surround them can barely keep out the noise from the room next door, and yet has somehow protected them from something far more nefarious and powerful. The deadly gas is unlike any that Teyla has ever heard of or imagined; it works quickly, dispensing through the human body within hours and turning organs and skin alike into puddles of blood and organic sludge.

She knows the intimate details of the contagion because she had witnessed first-hand the deaths of two marines, and their infection has left behind mental images that Teyla finds herself constantly combating. Elizabeth has not said much since then, and Teyla cannot find any words of comfort for the woman. She had been forced to helplessly watch alongside Teyla through the pane-glass windows as the marines slowly succumbed to the effects of the gas when they were left abandoned outside the sealed doors, and the guilt of being unable to help has clearly marred her companion's demeanor in the last half-hour.

"The silence is killing me," Elizabeth mutters, the first to break the hush out of sheer frustration, "The screaming was worse, but the _silence_ . . ."

Teyla nods, needing no words.

Elizabeth grabs the radio, and turns it on, "John, what's the situation?"

Across the expanse of Atlantis, in the safety of the Control Room, John answers, "We're trying to turn off the ventilation system to stop the spread of the gas. Rodney figures he can reboot the city's Detection System after that and let it flush out the pathogen itself, like he originally _programmed_ it to do."

"Why isn't it doing that now?" Elizabeth asks, confused.

"Apparently, the gas is having an eroding effect on some the equipment in the Power Grid," John replies, wearily, "It's messing with all of the automated systems."

"Is he going to get it to work?" Elizabeth asks, with Teyla eagerly listening.

A moment of silence lingers, and when John finally answers, he sounds exasperated, even over the radio, "He says he's trying as fast as humanly possible. Faster, even."

Teyla sighs, knowing that an absolute affirmation would have been much more welcome at this time. Still, Rodney is the type of man whose plans and attempts rarely fail, and if anyone can do the impossible with technology and computers, Teyla feels confident it is he. The arrogance he flounces - _Ancestors help her_ - is actually very well deserved.

"Alright," Elizabeth replies, anxiously, "Keep us updated."

"Will do," John replies, "How are things on your end?"

Elizabeth looks over at Teyla and smiles wryly, "Oh, you know, Teyla and I are having some girl-time. Braiding hair. Gossiping. That type of stuff."

"Oh, good," John replies, sharing the mirth without overdoing it, "I want details later."

The conversation ends without further words, and Elizabeth puts the radio away after that. She shifts in the large orange suit; the remnants of a hazmat suit that was suppose to protect her from the noxious gas outside until a small tear had rendered it ineffectual. Covered from head to toe in uncomfortable plastic, Elizabeth is now no more protected than Teyla, who wears only her regular sparring clothes.

She regards Elizabeth with a raised eyebrow, and decides a change of tactic is in order, "_Girl-time?_" she asks, curiously amused.

Elizabeth slightly blushes, "You really don't want to know, trust me."

Normally, Teyla would not be one to disagree, but the current situation is strife with tension and she is eagerly looking for any respite she can find, even if it is just for a moment, "Enlighten me anyway."

Elizabeth gives her a look that clearly implies that any blame for the ensuing conversation was to be placed at Teyla's feet, "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Teyla nods her head in acknowledgment, and then listens to the quick anecdotes of slumber-parties, best friends, and girls so young and innocent that Teyla has trouble identifying with any of it at all. The stories of girls "crushing" on cute boys and gossiping together seem so juvenile to her, and she cannot even remember herself ever being carefree enough to feel such a way. She probably was as innocent as that, once in her youth, but when Teyla looks back at her life, all she remembers at any age is the death, diligence, and determination to survive that has shrouded her life story.

She was six years old when her father began to teach her how to fight. She was twelve when her mother died. She was nineteen when the Athosians declared her the next leader among her people. Innocence, Teyla often thinks, was a trait denied to herself and her people for many generations. It is a word abstract to her, almost as much as the term "girl-talk" is.

She can imagine Elizabeth was like that, though, once upon a time. Innocent and carefree and thoughts no more weighty than "cute boys." She imagines Elizabeth's life growing up - of a childhood filled with laughter, protection, and the gifts of the various simple marvels afforded to her galaxy.

A scream suddenly echoes in the distance, of someone dying in the most horrible way imaginable, and idly, numbly, Teyla thinks a disturbing thought . . .

_Now she has been welcomed into mine._

* * *

When the screaming has stopped - yet again - sweat has broken out all over Teyla's body. It takes a moment for the numbness to pass, but when she feels a drop of salty perspiration sting her eyes, Teyla becomes aware of the rising temperature of the room.

"They have stopped the ventilation systems," Teyla announces, knowingly.

Elizabeth looks up at her in surprise, and then notices the truth in her words, "You're right," she says, grabbing her radio, "Why didn't they inform me?"

Teyla quickly places a hand over the mouth piece, preventing communication, "Perhaps because they are busy," she says, softly, "They have much to deal with, and I have found that when Doctor McKay is working, it is best not to disturb him."

Elizabeth smiles, hesitantly, "You're right," she says, awkwardly easing off on the tense grip she has over the radio, "I suppose they can update us when they have the time."

Teyla tries to look reassuring, "They are doing everything they can do, Doctor Weir."

Elizabeth smiles, more genuinely this time, "Teyla, under the circumstances, I think it's appropriate you finally call me Elizabeth."

Teyla holds back a small smile, silently marveling at the fact that it has taken circumstances such as this for the formal barrier between them to be knocked down. Elizabeth had, of course, insisted before now on being called by her first name, but this time, Teyla is more willing to heed the recommendation. Much like John had needed to ask several (perhaps more than just _several_) times before she acquiesced to the use of his first name, Teyla often needs to feel more than just politeness to bridge the canyon of formality. It had taken John over a year to win that battle. It has apparently taken Elizabeth more than twice that time.

Teyla has no idea why she has built such rigid guidelines to follow, but the distance of formality is sometimes comforting to her.

"Very well . . . _Elizabeth._"

That is why, this time, she is surprised to find a great more deal of comfort in _familiarity_ instead.

* * *

Five minutes later, John is calling over the radio again to give another update, "Sixteen dead and the numbers are rising."

"How is that possible?" Elizabeth demands, frustrated, "I thought everybody was in the quarantined sections of the city by now."

"They were," John replies, sounding discouraged and weary himself, "In the areas where the gas is more densely concentrated, it's eroding more than just machinery. Elizabeth, the sealants of the doors are slowly being eaten away."

"Oh God," she breathes, and glances up to share a look with Teyla.

She does not need to be told what this means. The sealants are being broken down, and this can only mean that the gas will slowly spread its way across the entire city, quarantined sections or not. For an instant, the horrific image of hundreds of the Atlantis personnel dying in the same manner as she had seen the two marines earlier flashes across the field of her imagination. It threatens her composure, and Teyla looks away from the stricken face of Elizabeth because it reflects everything inside of herself that she does not want to show.

Teyla rises to her feet, needing movement, "What is being done to stop it?"

Elizabeth relays the question, and John answers, "We're working on it. Carson's already started research on counter-effecting the contagion, but he needs time. We're just trying to buy him that."

The worried tone in John's voice does more to undue her than the words itself. He is not a man to ever let fear and impossibilities stand in his way - sometimes Teyla has actually found him to be overly sanguine in the face of danger - but he has always been far more concerned about the threats to his friends than he has about placing himself in risk.

She imagines being trapped safely in the Control Room to be more frustrating and infuriating for him than it is for her to be trapped near the path of the contagion. Sometimes, he is just a foolishly loyal man that deems the only risks acceptable are the ones he himself takes. Despite herself, she has grown to admire that about him.

"Listen," John continues haltingly, with frustration ebbing through, "Elizabeth, Teyla, you should know, the gas . . . it's most heavily concentrated in the south east sector, and you . . . you two aren't far from that."

Elizabeth closes her eyes and looks away, "Alright . . . Understood, John," she says, and then goes to immediately depersonalize it. "How many other people are near us?"

"The city wide life-signs detector show fourteen people in the east wing," John replies, "But between you and the south east pier - where the gas is most concentrated - there are over twenty people."

Elizabeth sighs, "Have you warned them?"

"We've only have radio contact with a handful of people there," John replies, "but I haven't informed any of them yet."

Elizabeth clears her throat, eyes hardening as she focuses on the problem, "Alright, I think it's best if you don't warn them, then. They can't do anything about the situation. For now, it will only cause a mass panic."

Teyla looks over at her, slightly taken by surprise. It is not the order that she had been expecting Elizabeth to issue, but then again, Teyla has seen the evolution of Elizabeth's leadership decisions. She began as a leader who only passively made the hard decisions, always second-guessing herself and sometimes over-thinking the situation until the opportune moment may have passed.

Over the years, however, Teyla has seen Elizabeth transform from that into a leader that does not hesitate to make the hard decisions and is fully willing to take responsibility for both the good and the bad outcomes. Yet every time she thinks that she has come to understand Elizabeth and her methods, Elizabeth does something that forces Teyla to re-evaluate her.

Elizabeth catches the look, "You disagree with my decision?" she asks, genuinely curious of Teyla's opinion.

Teyla pauses, and thinks it over, "No," she replies honestly, thinking back to the other viral outbreak they had encountered in their first year here, "You are correct in your assumption. A mass panic is something we cannot afford to allow to happen this time."

John comes over the radio before Elizabeth can respond, "Understood, Elizabeth. We'll keep this information quiet for now, but frankly I don't think it'll do us any good. The gas is going to start breaking down more sealant doors soon, and when more people start feeling the effects . . ." he trails off, and begins again, "Lets just hope McKay gets the systems rebooted before then, so it won't come to that."

"From your lips to God's ears, John," Elizabeth replies, looking frustrated.

Teyla sends a silent prayer to the Ancestors for just that reason.

* * *

Among the other numerous primary systems to go haywire in Atlantis, the Artificial Environmental Controls have elevated the core temperature of the room over twenty degrees in the last fifteen minutes. This, coupled with the shut down of the ventilation systems, has created an environment that is beyond being a mere nuisance. The oppressive heat has made an intolerable situation even more unbearable, and Teyla is not one to sit idly by on the best of circumstances. She wants to do something, anything, instead of sitting here as useless as the hazmat suit that Elizabeth wears.

Her own body is bathed in sweat, and she cannot imagine how Elizabeth has not stripped herself free of the cumbersome orange body suit yet. Just looking at her makes the Athosian feel more uncomfortable; it is a mark of the true pressure she is under that she barely restrains from suggesting that the leader of the Atlantis Expedition please strip herself of clothing for her own peace of mind.

"Teyla," Elizabeth begins, voice tinged with an emotion that Teyla cannot identify, "Tell me about the Athosians."

Teyla raises an eyebrow at the unexpected request, "I am sorry?"

"The Athosians," Elizabeth repeats, "I just realized I know only a depressingly small amount about them. Unforgivable considering I came across galaxies to explore, and I can't even take the time to properly get to know the people that live on the mainland miles off from my own city."

On this, Teyla disagrees. Other than the anthropologists that have besieged Teyla at random intervals during their stay here, Elizabeth remains one of the few people of the expedition that has gone out of her way to learn more about their culture and traditions. Beyond the necessity of what a leader would need to know considering their alliance, Elizabeth has always exhibited an interest in the Athosians that was heartwarming. It was one of the first things about her that Teyla had connected to and appreciated. Elizabeth has been genuinely welcomed over on the mainland for this reason, although she has chosen to visit there only twice in the last seven months.

"You have much else to deal with," Teyla says, sympathetically, "I know full well the burdens of leadership. Your first priority must be to Atlantis."

"Still," Elizabeth replies, an admonishing tone directed at herself, "It's unacceptable. I should visit the mainland soon," she smiles, "Their food alone is worth the trip."

Teyla smiles, slightly blushing, "The Athosian culinary skills remain one of the few sets of skills that I lack entirely. Charin always told me I was hopeless in it."

Teyla immediately fights off the vestiges of grief and pain that spring up with the reminder of Charin, but some of it must show on her face because Elizabeth's smile takes on a sympathetic tinge. She hates that the memory of Charin inspires any type of anguish, but even now, the heartache has barely lessened in the months since her death.

Elizabeth's voice turns purposefully cheerful, attempting to distract her, "Tell me something about the Athosians, Teyla."

Teyla opens her mouth, but cannot think of anything to say, "Where would you like me to begin?"

"The beginning, I suppose," Elizabeth answers, "Tell me about Athos."

It is a hefty proposition, but Teyla immediately knows where to start, "In our time, Athos may be the simple remnants of what was once a great civilization," she says, echoing the words her father use to say to potential trade partners during negotiations, "but its' true spirit lives on in it's people," she smiles sadly, and then adds her own bittersweet addendum, "wherever they may be."

Elizabeth smiles, perhaps recognizing the words from over two years ago from the first debriefing Teyla ever participated in. Back then, she had been talking in the hopes of a strong alliance between their people, but now as Teyla begins to weave a story about the Athosians and where they came from, she is talking not as one leader to another, but as one friend to another. The difference is subtle, but at the same time palpable.

She tells Elizabeth of the ruins of the great civilization that mars the horizons from whatever vantage point one would look. This society was once one of the most advanced and densely populated civilizations in all of Pegasus Galaxy. Echoes of it's splendor are still whispered about in several corners of the galaxy, but much to Teyla's chagrin, it serves as a warning to people instead of a symbol of pride. Their civilization had reached such great heights that the Wraith feared them a threat, and like any other threat that the Wraith had faced, it choose to destroy it in wave after wave of bombardments, that lasted over five years. After the Wraith had thoroughly destroyed the great cities and metropolises of her forefather's time, the people of Athos were reduced to several small pockets of population.

The Athosians, the name of the original tribe from which Teyla traces her lineage, were a group of elite warriors in the old days. They had suffered the most casualties during the Great Destruction many centuries ago, but in time, the Athosians had re-banded together and grew into a small community of nomads that moved from place to place on the surface of Athos.

On her father's side, she can trace the bloodline of her people back several centuries and further. Her direct bloodline for the last several generations is quite unique, because in the last four generations without fail, her family has held the mantel of leadership for the Athosians. She is Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tugun, who was the son of Amian, who was the daughter of the original leader in their bloodline, the great Aphemlis. There is actually an old withered book in her possession, back on the mainland, that lists the name, family affiliation, and the occupation of every one of her blood relatives dating back for centuries. It is one of the most treasured possessions she has - not because it is a mere list of names of those who have _died_ - but because it lists the names of those who have _lived_.

In a world that was constantly overshadowed by the specter of death, the one thing the Wraith could never take away from her people was their memory and appreciation for life.

As she goes on about her people, time quickly passes by and Elizabeth listens with an interest that cannot be feigned. She asks questions, and Teyla answers with as much detail as she can remember. They become so blessedly engrossed in the conversation, that several minutes later Teyla does not even notice that the temperature in their room has slowly begun to cool because the sealant of their door has broken and fresh cool air is pooling in.

The pathogen, as well, has seeped its' way into their sanctuary.

* * *

John is not calm over the radio, "Are you guys alright? Have you begun to feel any of the symptoms yet? Is there any way you're not infected?"

"Colonel, calm down," Elizabeth orders, closing her eyes, "Teyla and I are fine so far. We haven't displayed any of the symptoms."

Yet, Teyla adds silently, knowing full well it can take twenty minutes or longer before the first symptoms appear. She knows the indicators as well as Elizabeth does: First, a fever breaks out, including headache, nausea, and dizziness. Fifteen minutes after that, delusional behavior ensues, and within twenty minutes of this, different orifices of the face and body begin expelling blood and bodily fluids as the insides of the human body are slowly degenerated. Painful death follows shortly after, although at that point, one can also assume it is welcomed with open arms. She had always presumed being killed by the hands of the Wraith was the worst death imaginable.

It seems she was wrong.

"Just stay put," John orders, recovering, "We're dispatching a hazmat team to you immediately. They'll be there with suits for you within fifteen minutes."

"Within fifteen minutes?" Elizabeth questions, surprised, "We're over six miles away from the hazmat facilities."

There's a pause before John answers, "I dispatched them some time ago. Pretty much as soon as I realized the sealants were breaking."

Teyla is frustrated, so it this emotion she blames for instigating her to grab the radio from Elizabeth's hands, "Colonel, the sealants on the door are eroding away. What guarantee is there that the gas won't do the same thing to the hazmat suits?"

John sounds equally frustrated, "I told Ronon that. He still decided to take the risk anyway."

"You sent Ronon out here?" Teyla demands, outraged. Then she sighs, because preventing Ronon from doing anything he sees fit is much like attempting to prevent the thunder after lightning has struck. "I suppose you have dispatched other teams to reach the other people stranded in this section as well? Give them the opportunity to use the hazmat suits, just as you are giving us?"

John audibly sighs, "We only have a limited number of suits available, Teyla. I made a judgment call."

"A judgment call that will sacrifice others to save us," Teyla replies, unbelieving. "John, we are not more valuable than anyone else."

"Tell that to the Athosians," he answers, defiantly, "And while you're at it, you can also inform the entire city that the Military is now in charge because their Civilian Commander had to go and die!"

Elizabeth snatches back the radio, "John, I order you to turn Ronon around right now!"

"There's no point to that now, Elizabeth."

"Do it now," Elizabeth repeats, "You're putting him in danger, and quite possibly wasting two decent hazmat suits in the process."

"You don't know that," John replies, "You and Teyla might not be infected yet."

"Oh, c'mon John!" Elizabeth shouts, wildly, "Stop and think for a moment. Do you really believe we're not infected already?!"

The silence that ensues is all the answer either of them need. John Sheppard has always been a stubborn man, especially when it came to saving the lives of his people, but Teyla has already silently accepted what he is struggling with. They are already infected.

They are soon going to die.

Staring at Elizabeth, she can see the reluctant acceptance reflected there as well. She expected to feel more alarm at the prospect, but all she feels is numbness. Pure numbness that prevents her from seizing upon the panic that should consume her entirely. Still, if Teyla is going to die, she can at least affect the manner in which she chooses to go out in life. Perhaps not in the disease that kills her, but in the behavior she takes while it happens.

"Turn Ronon around," Elizabeth orders, but the softness of her voice dulls the effect, "Don't get more people killed on account of us."

There's dead silence for more than ten seconds, and when Teyla is about to conclude that John has stopped communicating, his voice comes back, sounding devoid of any emotion except anger, "Fine," he says, spitting out the words, and then there is nothing but static.

* * *

"Carson's working on a cure," Elizabeth says hopefully, two minutes later, "You just know right now he's slaving away in the infirmary with dozens of other doctors that are all the best specialists in two galaxies. If anyone can develop a cure quickly, it's them."

Teyla nods, knowing the words to be more desire than anything, "Of course."

Elizabeth sighs, turning away. The false optimism is apparently too much effort for her to maintain, and anxiety clearly mars her face. She suddenly stands up, apparently restless and fidgety, and immediately starts to discard the large orange suit that has encompassed her for over an hour now with a zealousness that is unwarranted. When she reaches for the large metal zipper in the back, she chases the thing around for several seconds in futility before she turns to Teyla with pleading eyes, "A little help here?"

Teyla smiles, amused, and stands to unzip the suit down to her lower back. She flashes back to the first time she had used a zipper - an ingenious little invention that she had played with for over two minutes, zipping up and down, up and down, in the seclusion and privacy of her new bed chambers in Atlantis. Such little novices, Teyla thought, silently amazed at the function and seamlessness of metal teeth molding together with such perfection and accuracy in their design. Over two years later, Teyla laughs at the absurdity of her earlier musings.

Elizabeth catches the glimmer of amusement, "What?"

"You know," Teyla begins, softly, nostalgically, "If this is indeed the end, I would not change a thing in the last two years. I have enjoyed my time here on Atlantis too much to trade it for anything else."

Elizabeth smiles, apprehension lessening for a split second, "Me, too."

Perhaps, Teyla thinks, despite coming from two different worlds, they are not so different after all.

* * *

"What the hell was he thinking?!" Elizabeth demands, rubbing her temples in an effort to stay focused and calm.

Rodney hesitates to answer over the radio, because John - _the stubborn, foolish man!_ - has had one of his trademark "hail-Mary" ideas, and has disappeared into the contaminated areas of Atlantis wearing one of the hazmat suits that may or may not withstand the effects of the contagion. Rodney wisely tried to conceal this action from both Elizabeth and Teyla, but he has never been remotely talented at the art of lying. Elizabeth broke him in under a minute, forcing Rodney to spill the secret and divulging information that Teyla is sure he was sworn to withhold.

Too infuriated to wait for an answer, Teyla grabs a large metal beam from the useless pile of clutter abandoned in the corner of the room and walks over to the door. She looks to Elizabeth, who stares back at her with confusion before clarity slowly sets in. She nods once, decisively, and Teyla does not hesitate to use the metal beam to start wedging the door open. The sealants may be compromised, but the automatic shut-down still holds the door tightly closed. Elizabeth comes over to help, and together, they force the door open.

_"No, no, no!"_ Rodney shouts frantically, regaining his voice over the radio, "What did you just do? Did you just open the door?!"

"Yes, Rodney," Teyla replies, patiently.

"Are you completely insane?!" Rodney replies, "Close it back, right now!"

"What difference does it make, Rodney?" Elizabeth demands, "We're already infected."

"The difference is _time!_" Rodney counters, frustrated, "You were only exposed to a small amount of the pathogen inside that closed room. You've just opened yourself up to a higher concentration of the gas, which means you just accelerated your own symptoms! Carson is looking for a cure as we speak! He just needs _time!_"

Teyla trades a look with Elizabeth, admittedly not having thought of this, "It makes little difference now. We are thoroughly exposed."

"Well, no duh!" Rodney shouts, "Honestly, am I the only non-suicidal person I know?"

"Speaking of," Elizabeth intercedes, segue-waying back to the matter at hand, "Where is Colonel Sheppard headed?"

"The Power Grid," Rodney answers, finally giving them the information they had been demanding for some time now, "He was going to try to manually reboot all the core systems from the Power Grid."

"Tell him to turn around," Teyla says, determined, "Doctor Weir and I will take care of this task now."

Elizabeth trades another look with her, nodding faintly, and while Rodney offers further protests over the radio, they start walking down the hall side by side towards the Power Grid. The remains of the two marines in the nearby hallway briefly breaks their stride, but Elizabeth quickly looks away and hurriedly walks past them. Their remains are not recognizable as anything at all, much less anything human, but Teyla lingers, forcing herself to go closer and grab an extra radio and one other essential item from their deformed bodies before quickly catching up with Elizabeth. Neither one of them glances back at the bodies again, but the image of it has seared into their memories, and the knowledge that their future will hold a similar fate manages to make Teyla's stomach turn to worms. Ancestors help her, but in that moment, Teyla decides that no matter what, that is not going to be the way she is going to die.

Resolutely, Teyla thinks, she will not _allow_ it.

"Rodney," Elizabeth snaps, interrupting his steady stream of words, "Just do it! Cut off his pathway and trap him if you have to! Just make sure John doesn't make it to the heavily contaminated areas."

Rodney sighs, "Fine! But Teyla better be around to protect me from him when this is all over!"

Despite herself and the situation, Teyla smiles, "Understood, Rodney . . . And thank you."

She can picture his eye-roll clearly in her mind, "Yeah. Whatever. _Just don't die!_"

* * *

Teyla feels nauseous.

As she walks down the hallway with Elizabeth, this feeling has a compounding effect and she struggles to maintain her composure. The symptoms have begun, she realizes, and this epiphany almost threatens to turn her firm resolution to continue into nothing more than jelly. The only thing that prevents her from throwing up is sheer will power - will power to overcome this first obstacle and hurdle past the next. She will not die this way, and she certainly will not die without completing the task they have set before themselves.

"This way," Elizabeth says, pointing.

They turn the corner, and the glimmer of machinery in the Power Grid winks at them. They double their speed, and when they reach their destination, Elizabeth attempts to radio Rodney again only to be intercepted by John's signal.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" John demands, "Carson is _insanely_ close to a cure and you pull this stunt?!"

"I know," Elizabeth replies, wearily, "This is usually something only you would do."

Teyla grabs at a nearby counter top, suddenly disoriented and dizzy. The action thankfully goes unnoticed by Elizabeth, who's too busy dealing with John to focus on the task at hand. Teyla sighs, aggravated, and activates her own radio to contact Rodney.

"Rodney," she greets, "We are at the Power Grid. Tell us what to do–"

"John, you're not listening to me!" Elizabeth yells, frustrated. "At this point, there's nothing left to discuss!"

Teyla decides a change of tactics is yet again in order, and snatches the radio from Elizabeth and hands her the one in her own possession, "You deal with Rodney," Teyla informs, "And I will deal with John."

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow in response, and then apparently notices the way Teyla is leaning heavily for support, "Teyla, are you alright?"

Teyla refuses to answer this question, "Fix the primary systems, Elizabeth."

She pauses in horror for a moment more, staring at Teyla with haunted eyes full of the knowledge that Teyla refuses to utter. She is dying. They both are, but Teyla seems to be the first one to show the symptoms. Elizabeth swallows, desperately looking for something to say or do to perhaps comfort Teyla, but the blaring voices of two demanding males over the radios grabs her attention. She glances down at the radio tuned to Rodney, and Teyla uses this opportunity to slide her back down the side of the counter. She rests on the ground, suddenly too dizzy and weak to stand on her own two feet.

While Elizabeth begins to converse and follow Rodney's precise instructions, pulling out and replacing crystal rods from one position to the next, Teyla glances down at the radio in her hands.

"John?" she calls, and waits for a response.

"Teyla?" he radios, sounding worried, "How you doing?"

"I need you to deliver a message," she responds, quickly getting the words out before she can rethink her actions, "To Halling. Tell him that he must not allow the Athosians to abandon this expedition. They have always been slightly wary of the alliance between our people, and I fear without my presence, they will be tempted to relocate and start again. Tell them that my final wish is they do not–"

"Teyla!" John interrupts, harshly, "You don't need to say any of this! Carson almost has the cure. We'll save you!"

Elizabeth looks up from her work at this, temporarily distracted, before redoubling her efforts to correct the primary systems.

Teyla suddenly throws up, spewing red chunks over the white furnishings of the room. Elizabeth is beside her within an instant, concerned, but Teyla waves her off and focuses on the difficult task of merely breathing in oxygen while the nausea continues to manifest violently. When she turns back, she sees Elizabeth is back at work, frantically moving in order to finish the task as quickly as possible.

"There!" Elizabeth announces, victorious, "Done!"

With the last crystal rod placed in position, the Power Grid immediately illuminates with translucent colors and Teyla hears several different machinery and programs come back online simultaneously. The ventilation system starts up with an audible disturbance, and almost immediately the alarms start blaring.

"You did it!" Rodney's voice announces ecstatically, "The Primary Systems are rebooting. The automatic responses should start up any second now, and target the contagion. You did it, Elizabeth! You did it!"

Elizabeth celebrates by passing out.

* * *

Teyla actually needs some time to build up the energy to crawl over to her prone body, coughing slightly the entire way and managing to make it to her destination without succumbing to the sudden urge to pass out herself. The dense concentration of the gas in this section of Atlantis must be exacerbating the effects, because Teyla feels the onslaught of symptoms accelerating much faster than what she had witnessed in the two marines earlier.

Her death, apparently, is approaching sooner than she had anticipated.

She rests her head against the cool tile as she reaches out for her sole companion, "Elizabeth," she cajoles, "Elizabeth, wake up!"

With additional physical prodding, Elizabeth finally responds, coughing herself and disoriented, "Teyla?"

"Yes," she answers, and then immediately lies, "Everything is alright," she says, clearing her throat. "You did it. You fixed the Primary Systems."

"We did it," Elizabeth corrects, then lifts her head slowly and comes to lean against the counter next to Teyla, "_We did it._"

They sit there in silence for several moments, both too tired and afflicted to do much else but stare at the illuminated machinery surrounding them as it buzzes and activates and hopefully starts flushing the pathogen out of the City even as they die from it. It's at this point that Teyla reluctantly brings out the other essential item she had taken earlier from the marine's body, and rests it on top of her lap. Elizabeth's eyes catches sight of it, and she slowly looks up at Teyla with instant comprehension in her eyes.

"You were planning for this all along," she says, knowingly.

Teyla fingers the handgun in her lap lightly, "I do not think either one of us wants to die the way those marines did. The effects we are feeling right now are going to be a blessing in comparison to the pain we will feel shortly."

"Who are you trying to convince?" Elizabeth responds, "Me, or you?"

Teyla finally dares to look Elizabeth in the eye, "Both of us, I suppose."

"God," she breathes, "I never would have thought it would come down to this."

Teyla sighs, eyes stinging with unshed tears, "Truly, neither did I. Otherwise I would have brought two guns."

For now, she has been left with the sole duty of killing them _both._

* * *

The radio cackles to life, "Elizabeth?! Teyla?! Are you there?! Respond! Respond now! Carson's got the cure!"

. . . No one responds.

_fin._


End file.
